


B is for Bus Stop

by barbitone



Series: Merlin Fanfiction [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: BDSM, BDSM AU, Humor, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is a professional dominatrix. Arthur is a banker and the most vanilla person he knows. Their relationship is probably doomed to fail, but Arthur is willing to stick around for as long as Merlin will have him. Probably not very long at all, but maybe that’s just his paranoia talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. B is for Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my wonderful beta nomical and my lovely proofreader thelionandthephoenix! Thanks for sticking with me, you guys :)
> 
> If you're here for BDSM style sexytimes between Merlin and Arthur, this is not the fic you're looking for. Also, there IS a BDSM style scene between Merlin and someone else, so if you can't handle that this is also not the fic you're looking for.
> 
> Finally, the fic before you now is not the one I set out to write, but that is the lament of all writers, so I guess let's just get on with it!
> 
> (oh, and none of these characters belong to me, this isn't written for profit, and blah blah blah)

***

**Chapter 1**

**B is for Beginning**

***

            Arthur met Merlin at a bus stop. He wasn’t waiting for the bus, of course. He was waiting for a taxi, and the bus stop just happened to be a convenient place to wait out of the freezing rain. And then a young man strode up, completely soaked and pale with the cold. He was dressed in the tightest leather pants Arthur had ever seen, along with a tiny black vest that left a strip of his pale belly clearly visible. He was also, inexplicably, only wearing one studded boot, making him limp oddly as he walked over and plopped down on the bench.

            He didn’t acknowledge Arthur at all, not even the surprised glance people usually shot him when they abruptly realized how incredibly attractive he was, and he was scowling darkly with his arms crossed over his chest. He was shivering, though, and Arthur had shrugged out of his thick long coat before he’d even realized he was doing it.

            “Here,” he said to the stranger, holding it out to him.

            “I don’t need your _coat_ ,” he spat out angrily.

            Arthur scowled and pursed his lips. “ _Good_ , because I am not _giving_ it to you. And I am not taking you to the hospital when you keel over from hypothermia, _either_.” He pushed the coat at him again.

            The man looked at him then, _really_ _looked_ at him, and when he smiled it transformed him from, essentially, a wet rat, into one of the most beautiful men Arthur had ever seen. Arthur felt himself starting to blush, but despite himself his arm didn’t waver, holding out the coat insistently.

            “Thanks,” the man said, _finally_ taking the damn thing. Arthur stared at his hands, practically encrusted with heavy metal rings, as he wrapped the coat around himself with a happy sigh. “My name’s Merlin, by the way.”

            Arthur couldn’t really blame him for giving out a fake name but he _was_ a little offended that he hadn’t even tried to make it believable. _Honestly_ , who was named _Merlin_? He briefly considered coming up with a fake name of his own and then gave up, deciding that in this situation his real name would seem fake enough.

            “Arthur,” he said. And then he had to look away, because the way Merlin was looking at him was making his stomach flip over and his heart beat faster. And he was not about to make a fool of himself in front a total stranger by doing something stupid like blushing, or stuttering through a pathetic attempt at asking him out. Arthur nervously adjusted his tie and pulled his suit jacket tighter around himself to try and keep out the chill.

            He would have been totally content to sit there in complete silence, but now that Merlin was in a good mood it became apparent that he was a talker. He talked and talked and talked, and some of the things he said were so absurd that Arthur just _had_ to answer him, and before he knew it they were chatting as though they were old friends. The kind of old friends that insulted each other constantly because they knew perfectly well that none of it would be taken personally, who joked easily and frequently, whose conversation was filled mostly with rubbish and laughter.

            The cab was taking _ages_ , and soon Arthur had learned the abridged version of Merlin’s life story. Like that he was a professional dominatrix, and that his last client had turned out to be a complete asshole and also a liar, which is why he’d left in a dramatic huff – forgetting most of his things, including one of his boots. And his whip, which was hand-made apparently, though not by him. Also his wallet. And how he was intending to pay for the bus was a complete mystery to Arthur, especially as he wondered if _not_ having a whip with him would work for him or against him.

            Arthur was having the most fun he’d had in months, and then the cab pulled up at the worst possible moment, right as Merlin was in the middle of a hilarious story about a man who got off on being pelted with _chickens_ , of all things. The hilarious part, of course, was that Merlin had had to steal the chickens from a farm, and he’d _just_ started telling the bit where the farmer caught him-

            Arthur stood up reluctantly, and Merlin was returning his coat before Arthur could tell him, “just _keep_ it.”

            And then Merlin was fishing around in an inside pocket of his vest, and pulling out a dark business card.

            “You seem like a fun bloke,” he said, handing it to Arthur. “Call me up some time, we’ll have a beer or something.” He winked conspiratorially and added, “no strings attached, yeah?”

            The cabbie honked impatiently and Arthur jerked his head up to stare at the car idling in the rain, and then back at Merlin, already starting to shiver once again.

            “Look,” he said, “do you want a ride? You don’t even have money for the bus, for god’s sake.”

            Merlin grinned. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ve got my ways,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

            “It’s no trouble, really.”

            Merlin seemed a little puzzled, so Arthur added, “I’d be rather miffed to see your ugly frozen corpse on the news tomorrow, _Mer_ lin.”

            Clearly Arthur was now living in bizarro-world, because somehow _that_ turned out to have been the exact right thing to say and Merlin stood up with a laugh.

            “Well, if you insist, _your highness_.”

            Arthur held the door open for Merlin, only to feel instantly appalled at himself because Merlin wasn’t a _lady_ or even a _date_ for that matter. Merlin gave him an amused little grin as he slid into the back seat without comment. Arthur got in after, shutting the door firmly while Merlin leaned forward to give the cabby directions.

            They continued to talk easily along the ride and when the cab pulled up to a large apartment building Merlin paused and looked at Arthur. He smiled crookedly, and tilted his head. “D’you wanna come up for a bit? For tea, or a drink?”

            And Arthur would never _ever_ go up to a stranger’s flat, but it was Friday night so he had no work the next day and there was _something_ about Merlin that he just couldn’t quite put his finger on. So he only shrugged and said, “sure.”

            He paid the cabby and followed Merlin inside the building and up a dimly-lit staircase. He handed over a credit card when Merlin needed to jimmy the lock to his flat because _of course_ Merlin had forgotten the keys, and then followed him inside. Merlin turned on the lights and went into his bedroom to change into dry clothes, leaving Arthur alone to snoop around.

            The flat was very… _normal_. Certainly not what Arthur had been expecting for the living space of a professional dominatrix. Although what, exactly, he _had_ been expecting was still a little unclear. It was small but cozy, not really _messy_ so much as lived in. There were a few unwashed mugs and plates in the sink, a bowl of quickly aging fruit on the counter. A battered old laptop stood open on the dining table, the screen black although it hummed loudly, as though angry at being on so late.

            Arthur milled about, looking at the very normal books stacked haphazardly on bookcases, and very normal DVD’s lying on top of the ancient T.V. He’d expected something a bit more… _extreme_ , but it was the usual collection of action movies and comedies along with a few unopened classics that you’d find in any home.

            Merlin returned in a pair of plain jeans and a worn plaid shirt, walked barefoot to the kitchen to fill the kettle.

            “So explain to me how what you do _isn’t_ prostitution,” Arthur said, drifting over to the small kitchen. He watched Merlin’s hands as he rifled through cupboards for teabags and mugs, his long fingers ridiculously elegant as he performed the simple task of making tea. The rings were missing now, all but a plain thin band on his right pinky, leaving his hands looking oddly naked.

            “Well,” Merlin said with an open smile, “I don’t make them cum. Technically.”

            “ _Technically_ ,” Arthur repeated with a snort. Merlin just shrugged and laughed.

            “So… why do you do it?” Arthur asked.

            “For the excellent outfits,” Merlin said, then laughed again. “Because I _like_ it, Arthur!”

            The tea kettle boiled and Merlin took it off the stove, setting it aside on the counter. He looked up then, and whatever he saw in Arthur’s face made him smile and take a step closer. “It’s not the _only_ thing I like, though,” he said. His eyes were impossibly blue, intense as he looked at Arthur with his head cocked to the side. Despite his best efforts Arthur’s gaze drifted down to Merlin’s lips, plush and inviting, the corners turned up slightly as though smiling was their default expression.

            Before Arthur knew what was happening Merlin had him backed up against the refrigerator and they were kissing madly, quirky fridge magnets clattering down to the floor around them as Merlin pushed Arthur’s suit jacket off his shoulders. It crumpled to the ground, forgotten along with the kettle waiting on the counter. Arthur pushed Merlin away after a few minutes, panting hard. He _meant_ to say, “I should _really_ go now,” except what he actually said was, “…bed?”

            Merlin took him by the hand and pulled him into the bedroom, where they tumbled into the unmade sheets. Somewhere at the back of his mind Arthur was a little worried that at any second Merlin was about to pull out the whips and chains on him, and something about that must have showed because Merlin laughed and said, “would you _relax_?” And then he slid out of his shirt and pulled Arthur in on top of him, and Arthur found himself a little busy with other things.

            It must have been magic, because there was no other explanation for how Merlin had Arthur out of his dress shirt in under a second, especially while managing to leave Arthur’s tie around his neck. Arthur meant to get it himself, except Merlin was guiding Arthur’s hands to the button of his jeans, and when Arthur pulled the button loose he found that Merlin wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

            Things got a little frantic after that. There was Merlin pressing him back into the mattress, Merlin yanking off his trousers, Merlin kissing his neck, Merlin straddling him and rolling a condom over Arthur’s erection, Merlin easing down onto him, Merlin moaning, Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin_. And if at one point the neighbors were banging angrily on the wall, Arthur was too far gone to care, or even notice.

            Afterwards Arthur stared at the ceiling a little dumbstruck, trying to catch his breath while Merlin lay naked beside him, their shoulders just touching. Merlin had his forearm thrown over his eyes and a very pleased smile spread over his lips- And Arthur really needed to stop thinking about Merlin’s lips. He looked down and laughed, because he was _still_ wearing his tie – his best tie, in fact, and incidentally a tie that he could probably never wear again without blushing. Merlin looked over and laughed with him.

            “That’s a good look for you,” he said warmly, and then closed his eyes with a content sigh.

            Arthur frowned a little, because he wasn’t really a one-night-stand sort of guy. And although this whole… _thing_ didn’t really seem to fit the typical one-night-stand script… Arthur wondered if Merlin expected him to leave now. Except earlier Merlin had given Arthur his number, and offered him tea even though they hadn’t really gotten around to drinking it. And, well, that seemed a bit like a sort-of date then, in which case perhaps he could stay. But they were almost complete strangers, and strangers didn’t _stay over_ after fucking, did they.

            Arthur delayed thinking about it by grabbing the plaid shirt from where it was haphazardly wedged under his right shoulder.

            “That’s my shirt,” Merlin complained as Arthur used it to wipe both of them off.

            “Well I’m not using _my_ shirt,” Arthur said. “I’ll be needing it… won’t I?” he asked in a very suave sort of way that was definitely not at all uncertain.

            Merlin looked up at him in contemplation. “You should stay,” he said, and then added a bit sheepishly, “if you want.”

            _Of course_ Arthur wanted to stay, but he wasn’t about to be too eager about it. He managed to wait a bit, pretending to think about it, before saying, “…alright.”

            Merlin still grinned up at him like he was being completely obvious. They rearranged themselves underneath the blankets, and although Arthur _hated_ sleeping in new places, that night he drifted off easily.

            Merlin’s alarm clock woke them at 8:00am and he cursed at it groggily as he turned it off. They had morning sex, and then shower sex. Afterwards they sprawled out on the couch eating toast and watching telly because that was all they had the energy for. And then it turned out that by some miracle they had the energy for couch sex as well, and…

            And before Arthur knew it, he was calling in sick to work on Monday which he’d never done before even when he’d _actually_ been sick.

            “We should do this again, sometime,” Merlin said while buttoning up his suit jacket for him later that night. His suit had spent the better part of three days lying crumpled on the ground, so it was now horribly wrinkled and also slightly dusty. Normally Arthur would never go out in public looking like that, but at the moment he was too blissed out to care.

            “Yeah,” Arthur said. “Maybe not so… _vigorously_ , though. Some of us have real jobs.” He grinned so Merlin knew he was just teasing, and then took out one of his own business cards and handed it over. Merlin looked at it with a pleased smile and slid it into the pocket of his ridiculous purple dressing gown. Merlin took him by the lapels and pulled him in for a lingering kiss goodbye.

            “Do you want to have dinner sometime this week?” Arthur asked once Merlin released him.

            “When?” Merlin said with a dreamy smile, his eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction.

            Arthur was all about traditional dating, and although he’d totally meant to say, “Friday night,” suddenly Friday seemed painfully far away and what actually came out of his mouth was, “…Wednesday?”

            “Yeah,” Merlin said. “Call me?”

            “Yeah,” Arthur said, his face breaking into a huge dopey smile without his permission.

            It was practically midnight by the time he got home, and he groaned to see light pouring out through the crack under his door. Of course Morgana would be there to ambush him. It was his own damn fault for giving her a key in the first place, he thought as he reluctantly unlocked the door and stepped inside.

            “Arthur! I was ready to file a missing person’s report!” Morgana said by way of greeting.

            “Yes, hello to you too,” Arthur muttered.

            Morgana stared at him, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Arthur,” she said slowly. “Is that… is that a _hickey_ on your neck?”

            Arthur blushed and resisted the urge to pull at his collar. “No,” he said defensively.

            “Oh. My. God. Oh my _god_ , Arthur! You called in sick so you could go off and shag someone? Oh my god! You _did_ , didn’t you!”

            Arthur stayed silent, but the blush only darkened, giving him away. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for a scolding, except Morgana enveloped him in a tight hug instead.

            “Finally! I’m so proud of you!”

            “Um… thanks?” Arthur said weakly, returning the hug.

            She pulled away and was instantly stern, shaking a finger at his nose. “Well you’d better be at work tomorrow, because I am _not_ going to the budget meeting by myself!”

            “I’ll be there, don’t worry,” Arthur said.

            “Good,” Morgana said, and made her way to the door. She paused at the last second though, turned around to ask, “who’s the lucky boy?”

            “Uh. His name is Merlin, actually.”

            Morgana cackled like the evil witch she was. “Oh my _GOD_ , Arthur! You _would_ find a Merlin wouldn’t you!”

            “Shut up, it’s not his real name.”

            “Oh it is,” Morgana said, waggling her eyebrows. “It is, it _so_ is.” She was gone before Arthur could deny it any further, which was probably for the best all around. He was embarrassed to realize that he was already starting to miss Merlin, or whatever his real name was.


	2. B is for Banking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit slow - feel free to skip it and move on to the next. It should read pretty seamlessly without it ;) If, on the other hand, you'd like to read through some slightly awkward first-date level chatter - read on!

***

**Chapter 2**

**B is for Banking**

***

            Wednesday couldn’t come quickly enough, and then, _finally_ , Arthur was standing in front of the door to Merlin’s flat with a bouquet of purple lilacs. He’d almost given them away to random passerby a grand total of five times, but then decided against it. Was it sappy? Well, yes it was sappy. Oh god, Merlin was going to hate them. He was a _dominatrix_ , for fuck’s sake, and Arthur was bringing him _flowers_.

            Arthur started looking around frantically for somewhere to get rid of them, and then Merlin opened the door. He was dressed in well-fitting jeans and a simple dark dress shirt, unbuttoned far enough to show a tantalizing flash of chest hair. Merlin had gotten slightly blurred in Arthur’s mind’s eye over the past two days, but now he was once again in painfully sharp relief, and he was _breathtaking_.

            “Oh. Hi,” Arthur said nervously.

            Merlin smiled widely, making Arthur go a little weak in the knees. “Are those for me?” he asked, pointing at the by-now slightly ragged flowers Arthur was clutching too tightly in his hand.

            It was too late to get rid of them, so Arthur straightened up and thrust them forward confidently. “No, _Mer_ lin, they’re for the other man I’m taking to dinner tonight.”

            Merlin’s already impossibly bright smile got impossibly brighter. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” he said quietly, and looked at Arthur in a way that made him feel warm all the way down to his toes. Merlin took the flowers and motioned for Arthur to come inside.

            The flat was exactly the same as it had been when he’d last been there. Up to and including Arthur’s coat draped over the back of the couch, where he’d forgotten it accidentally on purpose, more because he liked the idea of Merlin having it than to have an excuse to see him again.

            “You know, I don’t think I have a vase?” Merlin said from the kitchen, where he was rummaging through cupboards. Arthur watched him fill up a large soup pot with water, and arrange the lilacs in it as best as he could. They looked a little pitiful displayed like that, but Merlin looked at them like Christmas had come early, and Arthur was suddenly glad he hadn’t given them away to anyone else. There was no possible way anyone else could have enjoyed the flowers more than Merlin did.

            Merlin had a twinkle in his eye as he took Arthur’s coat off the couch and threw it over his shoulders before leading the way out the front door. The walk to the restaurant, a quaint little Italian place about two blocks away, was… incredibly awkward.

            Everything had been so _easy_ during the weekend – Arthur had been acting so out of character, he had been so unbalanced that he hadn’t had the time to think too hard, or doubt himself. Now, without the burning need to run his hands over every inch of Merlin’s body, without the ridiculous situation of being caught at a bus stop with a man that had no coat and only the one shoe, Arthur was starting to doubt himself.

            He couldn’t think of anything to say, though maybe that was because he was consumed with the dilemma of whether or not he should take Merlin’s hand. The dilemma, of course, being that he really, _really_ wanted to, but that he also realized this was their first real date, so surely it was too early for hand holding. Of course then the wind picked up, and the matter was settled for him when Merlin stepped closer and hooked their arms together, pressing into his side.

            Merlin didn’t seem to be full of the same nervous energy he’d had when they’d first met, or the boundless enthusiasm of their three-day-long sex spree. He seemed mellow and soft somehow, relaxed in a way that Arthur couldn’t help but envy, perfectly content to stay silent – something that Arthur really hadn’t anticipated. Arriving at the restaurant was both a relief and a torment, mostly because it meant Merlin stepped away from him.

            The waitress seemed to know Merlin, so they got seated immediately at an intimate little table in the corner, one short candle dancing merrily between them.

            A little wine soothed Arthur’s nerves, and soon they were laughing at each other’s jokes and chatting about nothing much in particular.

            “So… how did you get into… well. Doing what you do?” Arthur asked halfway through dinner, two glasses of wine having effectively loosened his tongue. The question had been on his mind for _days_ now, and though he’d decided that he wouldn’t be asking it, obviously he’d just blown _that_ plan.

            Merlin laughed lightly and looked down at his plate, where he’d been twirling long strands of angel-hair pasta onto his fork. “Well,” he said, “I was actually a nurse, straight out of uni. And my boyfriend at the time, he… well he took me to a club with him, and I realized that maybe… maybe there was a lot I didn’t realize about myself, you know?”

            Arthur nodded with a very understanding expression, although he most certainly did _not_ know. He’d never really had a moment where he’d questioned the fundamental aspects of his own identity. He’d always just… been. Even realizing he was gay hadn’t been much of a shock, more of a slowly growing realization than a sudden epiphany.

            “Anyway,” Merlin shrugged, “I stuck around in the scene even after I stopped dating him, and once I realized I could actually make a career of it… well, nursing just didn’t seem to be quite so appealing.”

            “So you left nursing to be…” Arthur started but trailed off, mortified, wishing he could stuff the words back down his throat because holy _hell_ that came out much more rudely than he’d intended.

            “Well, you’d be surprised how many us have experience in medicine,” Merlin said with a laugh. His voice dropped into a low purr as he continued. “If you know how to heal, you know how to hurt. And more importantly, you know how to hurt _safely_.”

            “Ah,” Arthur said, at a loss for words. He’d really been meaning to read up a bit about this sort of thing before seeing Merlin again, but he had a real job and enough things to worry about besides facing down the librarian’s no doubt dubious stares as he tried to check out books on bondage and domination. He knew enough to know there was… spanking and things involved, but the way Merlin was talking led Arthur to assume that he meant something a little more… extreme. The thought of Merlin hurting someone, _on purpose_ , was more than a little bizarre, at odds with the man he’d built up in his mind.

            “But, _why_ do you do it?” Arthur pressed on despite himself. “What about it is so…” because surely Merlin didn’t just like _hurting_ people.

             Merlin shifted in his seat a little, his cheeks growing red. It was probably the wine getting to him as well, Arthur thought, because he was much too confident and self-assured to feel embarrassed.

            “It’s… it’s hard to explain,” Merlin said finally. “But it’s a feeling like nothing else, the sort of… _power_ someone gives you over them. Knowing that you could do practically _anything_ to them, that they want you to, that they’ll take it all and thank you afterwards. It’s… it’s intoxicating.”

            Merlin smiled and motioned for the waitress to bring him another glass of wine. “It’s different doing it for money, though,” he said after a moment, the twinkle in his eyes suddenly dimmed. “I mean, some of my clients are… well they’re fun and I like them, of course I do, but- Well, some of them are more of a chore. Like a fast food menu of services: tie me up like this, spank me this many times, call me a dirty whore. Like reading off a checklist. And _some of them_ …” Merlin trailed off with a grimace.

            “Well, let’s just say I’m lucky to be popular enough that I don’t need to deal with the assholes.”

            Arthur blinked, surprised. He’d thought it would have been even _more_ fun to beat up someone you didn’t like. “Assholes?” he asked. “Like… the guy you left when we first met? How do you be an asshole about being… well. I don’t know… dominated or whatever?”

            Merlin laughed. “Yeah, like that guy. It’s just, there are some people who _say_ they want to be dominated, but in reality they get a kick out of trying to get over on you, try to get power over you by being… well, passive aggressive, for some of them, or just sort of… belligerent. It’s a strange situation, doing it for money. On the one hand, they’re submissives, but on the other hand they’re clients, you know? So in the end you want them to be happy, or, well, satisfied at least.”

            “How can they be satisfied if you don’t let them cum?” Arthur asked, right as the waitress came over to refill Merlin’s glass. Arthur jerked in surprise, growing hot with embarrassment, but neither Merlin nor the waitress seemed particularly shocked.

            “Well, they usually take care of that themselves, after,” Merlin said with a laugh after the waitress had gone. “But enough about me! What do _you_ do?”

            “Ah,” Arthur said, taking a drink from his own glass. “I’m afraid it’s a bit boring. Not nearly as exciting as being a dominatrix!”

            “Come on, I’m sure it’s not so bad,” Merlin said.

            Arthur chuckled lightly, because it _was_ , it really was. “I… run a bank,” he said.

            Merlin’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” he said. “Your card said Pendragon, but I didn’t realize you were Arthur Pendragon of _Pendragon Corp_. You run the largest bank in the _country_?”

            Arthur winced and looked away. “Ah, no,” he said, “that’s… that’s my father. I used to work for him but we had some… uh, _disagreements_ about how to run the business, so I left.”

            Merlin sighed and took a large swig of wine, before laughing. “Thank _god_ ,” he said after a moment. “Pendragon Corp. owns my student loans and they are _bastards_. They’ve raised my interest rates _twice_ in the past five years!”

            “Sorry about that,” Arthur said uncomfortably, “that was one of the reasons I left in the first place… treating people like numbers rather than… well, _people_. It turned out to be a good move seeing as how they’re currently under investigation for laundering Columbian drug money… Anyway, I used my trust fund to start a bank of my own – Camelot? Have you heard of it?”

            Merlin just shrugged, so Arthur pressed on. “It’s more of a credit union, really. Well, we try to support small business, you know? But we specialize in micro-loans, mostly to women.”

            “You’re a feminist, I see,” Merlin said lightly.

            “Ah, not really,” Arthur said quickly, but as soon as he heard himself speaking he had to back-peddle. “I mean! Not that there’s anything _wrong_ with that, it’s just that… well, we try to support women because they pose a smaller credit risk? I’m sure you can imagine micro-loans aren’t exactly very profitable, so we have to make some hard choices, but it’s a great way of empowering people to help themselves, which is really the best way to help low-income communities, and- Oh god, I’m boring you aren’t I?” Arthur asked abruptly.

            Merlin placed his hand over Arthur’s own. “Not at all,” he said warmly. “It’s nice to hear that you’re saving the world – one micro-loan at a time!”

            “Ah, yes,” Arthur said, embarrassed. “Saving the world, slowly but surely… It was really Morgana’s idea. She’s my sister. Well, she’s my step sister, or, technically my ex-step sister?” Arthur paused for a second as he tried to get it all straight in his head. “Well, we actually recently found out she’s also my half-sister, so…”

            “So let’s just go with sister, yeah?” Merlin said.

            Arthur laughed in response. “Yes, that sounds a bit simpler, doesn’t it?”

            “It’s funny, I know a Morgana… she comes to the club sometimes… although I doubt she’s the same one as your sister!”

            Arthur shuddered. “Honestly? I wouldn’t be very surprised if she was… but either way I really, _really_ don’t want to know.”

            “That’s fair,” Merlin said with a smile before finishing off the rest of his wine.

            They moved onto safer topics after that, and when they’d finished their meal Arthur headed to the bathroom so he could surreptitiously slip the waitress his credit card, foregoing the whole awkward “check-dance” he was used to dealing with and _really_ didn’t want to go through with Merlin.

            They walked back to Merlin’s flat, Arthur’s arm around Merlin’s narrow waist, Merlin’s arm wrapped around Arthur’s shoulders. It wasn’t long before Arthur was texting Morgana that he’d be late on Thursday, and Merlin was fucking him over the back of the sofa, his hand tight in Arthur’s hair while Arthur tried not to drool too much on the upholstery, gasping desperately against the soft fabric, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth couch-back as he tried to stifle his cries.


	3. B is for Bondage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case the title of the chapter didn't make things clear, some BDSM ahead!

***

**Chapter 3**

**B is for Bondage**

***

            Arthur had been on more dates than he could count. Bad dates, mediocre dates, and even amazing dates, but they’re never really amounted to much. His longest relationship had been with his coworker Leon, and it had lasted for a grand total of three months before they’d mutually decided it wasn’t working out and parted in an unusually amiable way that left them able to work well together. So when he’d found himself having an exceptionally amazing relationship with Merlin for over four months he became understandably nervous over what exactly was about to go wrong.

            He even knew what it was going to be – Merlin was a professional dominatrix and Arthur was the most vanilla person he knew. Sooner or later, Merlin was going to get bored of him and their boring sex life.

            Not that Arthur though it was boring, of course. The sex was always ridiculously good, but it was never… kinky. At least it wasn’t kinky in the way Arthur expected it to be. He’d watched some BDSM porn of course, watched doms lead their subs around on leashes while well-built men jerked off furiously around them, or bound their subs in increasingly uncomfortable positions and flogged them while the usually pale thin men cried out in fake pleasure. It was so _explicit_ and put-on that it always made Arthur a little uncomfortable, even more uncomfortable when he tried to imagine himself and Merlin in their place.

            He kept expecting Merlin to bring it up, to ask him to do… _something_ , like let Merlin beat him, or tie him up, and the more time passed without it happening the more nervous Arthur got. Because Arthur hadn’t really had _that_ much sex in the past, and all of it had been relatively standard. Merlin still occasionally did things that Arthur didn’t expect, but it was never anything he was wholly unprepared for.

            One hot summer night while they’d been watching movies at Merlin’s flat – a night when Merlin’s air conditioning had gone out – Merlin had brought over a bowl of ice cubes and spent ages running them over Arthur’s skin, lapping up the excess moisture with his tongue while Arthur could only lay back and gasp, caught between the coolness of the ice and the heat of Merlin’s mouth while Merlin looked up at him through his eyelashes.

            And once after a truly excellent round of shower sex Merlin had laid him out over the sheets and eaten him out until Arthur was rutting against the mattress, begging shamelessly for Merlin to just let him _come_ already. Merlin had pushed into him, fucked him with quick rough strokes before turning him over and sucking him off like he had all the time in the world, his thin arms deceptively strong as they pressed Arthur’s hips down against the bed.

            Obviously there was going to be a breaking point, and it happened about four and a half months into their relationship.

            “Dinner on Thursday night?” Arthur asked while leaving Merlin’s flat one day.

            Merlin looked decidedly uncomfortable as he buttoned Arthur’s coat for him, smoothed down the fabric with slightly shaking fingers. “I… I have to work at the club on Thursday,” he said, and then looked up at Arthur with his eyes narrowed in consideration. “You could… come if you want? Just to watch,” he added at Arthur’s no-doubt dubious expression. “I know you’ve been curious, it might be nice for you to see what it’s like, first hand. It’s not like the porn, you know,” he said, too-perceptive as usual.

            “Is that… allowed?” Arthur asked nervously.

            “Well, not always?” Merlin said. “But my client, the one I have an appointment with, he likes being watched. Usually I have one of the other doms come in for his sessions, but it could be you? If you’d like?”

            Arthur couldn’t really deny being curious, and that was how he’d ended up in front of the club, standing hand-in-hand with Merlin by the side door. Merlin seemed nervous as well, which, surprisingly enough made Arthur feel a bit better.

            Merlin led him inside with a quick nod at a very frightening woman in a black leather get-up manning the front desk, and took him into a medium-sized room, dark except for a few candles arranged throughout. The walls were covered in shelves bearing a multitude of masks, all shaped like animal heads – everything from frogs to giraffes to dragons.

            “All the clients wear these,” Merlin explained, “to protect their anonymity. A lot of the people who come here are CEO’s and high-paid lawyers, that sort of thing… most of them don’t want the world to know what they like to do in their spare time.”

            Arthur only nodded dumbly while Merlin picked out a mask for him, a large plastic thing that would cover his whole face, shaped like a lion. Arthur put it on and let Merlin lead him out into the main room.

            It wasn’t so different from any other bar he’d been to – darkened lights, music just this side of too loud, a crowd of people mingling and laughing with each other. Aside from, of course, a much greater level of nudity than Arthur had come to expect from public places. Many of the masked people were wearing collars, some of them were standing or kneeling next to unmasked doms in a variety of outfits, from plain jeans and shirts to full-on bondage gear consisting of leather straps and harnesses. All of them were intimidating, looking vaguely displeased as they chatted with the people around them.

            Merlin’s hand in his own was a comforting anchor in the unfamiliar environment, and Arthur felt his palms growing sweaty, his grip on Merlin’s hand becoming slick and uncertain.

            Merlin led him into a hidden passageway, past a series of doors beyond which Arthur could hear muffled groans and cries of pleasure and pain. They came to a stop before a black door at the end of the hall, and Merlin looked at him nervously.

            “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Merlin said quietly. “I’m going to lead you inside and ask you to sit, at which point you’ll sit in one of the chairs around the edges of the room. Whatever you do, don’t speak,” he said, squeezing Arthur’s hand briefly before letting go. “If… if at any point you want to leave, just go. Don’t say anything, alright?”

            Arthur nodded a little dumbly, feeling silly in his lion mask.

            “Just follow the hallway back into the bar, and I’ll come meet you after if I need to. Ready?” Merlin asked.

            Arthur really _wasn’t_ ready, and in fact he was starting to regret this whole stupid idea, but it was too late to say so and he just nodded again. Merlin took a deep breath and pushed the door open, leading the way into the room.

            It was dark and oppressive, lit with a series of red candles that threw ominous shadows over the room, making it seem somehow cavernous. He was briefly distracted by the assortment of floggers and paddles and other medieval instruments hung up on hooks on the far wall, so much so that it took him nearly a minute to notice the man, kneeling naked in the center of the room.

            If Arthur was honest with himself, he’d admit to expecting someone…. well. Ugly. Fat, maybe, or old, or bearing an unseemly skin condition. Someone who wouldn’t be able to find someone to sleep with them on their own merits, someone who would have to pay for this sort of… hobby.

            The man kneeling before him was none of those things. He was very fit, so fit that Arthur found himself feeling a bit self-conscious about his own, really very toned, body. Even in the dim light Arthur could tell that the man had a fetching tan, smooth and dark. He wasn’t wearing an animal mask, but rather a large blindfold that covered half his face. Even despite the blindfold Arthur could tell he was very handsome. He had a sharp masculine jaw and a finely angled nose, even stubble covering his cheeks and chin.

            “Sit,” Merlin said commandingly, and it took Arthur a second to realize Merlin was talking to _him_. He sat obediently in a plush red-velvet chair, the one that was closest to the door. Just in case.

            Merlin seemed completely different now, predatory as he walked slowly around the kneeling man.

            “Hello, Gwaine,” he said, his voice a low purr that made shivers run up Arthur’s spine.

            “Hi, Emrys,” the man said with a cheeky grin.

            Merlin lashed out quick as lighting, striking the man – _Gwaine_ – across the face, throwing him off balance to fall gracelessly onto the ground. He didn’t hit so hard as to draw blood, but his rings left angry red streaks across the man’s cheek. Arthur flushed as he suddenly realized why, exactly, Merlin wore so many rings when he went to… work.

            “Did I say you could speak?” Merlin asked coldly.

            Gwaine stayed silent this time, breathing hard as he made no effort to get up off the floor.

            “Answer me,” Merlin said.

            “No, Emrys,” Gwaine said meekly.

            “On your knees,” Merlin ordered, and Gwaine picked himself up, moved back into a kneeling position, his hands folded behind his back. “Good,” Merlin purred. “I’ve brought a friend with me today. He’s going to watch me take you apart. Would you like that?” he asked.

            “ _Yes_ , Emrys,” Gwaine said breathlessly.

            Arthur could see that Gwaine’s cock was hard between his thighs, an impressive length that made him feel a bit self-conscious once again.

            Merlin strolled over to the far wall, hummed quietly to himself as he picked out a wicked-looking leather whip. He twisted it around in his hands as he walked a few circles around Gwaine, and then trailed the coils of leather lovingly up the man’s bare chest. “On your hands and knees,” Merlin said, and Gwaine scrambled to obey.

            Arthur could hear his own heart pounding in the oppressive silence, watched with bated breath as Merlin walked to the far side of the room. He let the whip uncoil, dropping the extra length onto the hard ground with a loud _slap_. Gwaine flinched and Merlin chuckled, but the sound seemed unfamiliar in the darkness, lacking the warmth it had when Merlin was braced above Arthur in his bedroom, rocking down on him in steady rolling thrusts.

            Merlin moved abruptly, landing a precise hit just where Gwaine’s ass met his thighs. Gwaine gasped and rocked forward in surprise, and Merlin whipped him again, landing a second hit exactly where he’d sent the first. A sharp cry escaped Gwaine’s lips at that, though this time he didn’t move so much as an inch.

            Arthur watched in horror and fascination as Merlin continued to whip the man, each blow landing with surgical precision – over his ass, his thighs, his upper back. At some point Gwaine’s arms gave out and he ended up with his head cradled in his forearms, though the rest of his body hadn’t moved. He was still up on his knees, his ass presented for Merlin’s whip. He was unabashedly crying out in pain at every hit, though Arthur could see his cock was still hard and straining.

            When Merlin had said real life was nothing like porn, he hadn’t been kidding. There was none of the playfulness Arthur had been expecting, none of the fake moans or silly dirty talk – just a merciless barrage of abuse, the whip cracking loudly in the still air.

            Arthur shifted uneasily, already desperate for escape back to something he understood.

            Merlin paused, rolled up the whip with slow deliberate movements while Gwaine panted loudly on the ground. “Give me a color,” Merlin said quietly. Gwaine didn’t respond, his mouth open where it pressed to the floor, his blindfold slipping slightly to fall further over his nose. “I _said_ ,” Merlin repeated, walking over to him and grabbing him roughly by the hair, jerking him up and back onto his knees, “give me a _color_.”

            “Green!” Gwaine gasped out, sounding nearly delirious with it. “ _Green_ ,” he moaned.

            “Good,” Merlin said with a smirk, and yanked on Gwaine’s hair again, unceremoniously tipping him over onto his back. Gwaine cried out as the sensitized flesh of his back and ass hit the unforgiving ground, let himself sprawl out, his arms spread wide in surrender. Merlin let the coils of the whip trail up his thighs and chest, dragging it across Gwaine’s cock to pull a broken and prolonged whine out of his throat. Gwaine was shivering and twitching on the ground, his knees spread shamelessly.

            “Don’t move, stay just like that,” Merlin murmured, and started to whip him again, this time letting the end of the whip catch at his nipples, his jaw, his balls. Gwaine stayed still, restrained only by Merlin’s words, helplessly open to anything that Merlin may do to him next.

            As Merlin walked around him, his hands steady on the whip, Arthur let himself stare, feeling safe behind the lion mask, just a bystander to the scene unfolding before him. Merlin’s arms and chest rippled with every movement, strong and sure. He was in his element, and Arthur felt horribly out of place.

            He let his eyes trail down Merlin’s body, was shocked to see Merlin’s own erection straining against his plain dark jeans, feeling as though the whip had just landed on _him_ rather than on Gwaine. He didn’t know why he was so surprised, Merlin had _told_ him that he did this because he liked it. Arthur should have expected him to be aroused, especially with how sinfully attractive Gwaine was. Still, knowing and seeing where two completely different things, and suddenly Arthur found himself unable to breathe. Why _that_ should be the thing that prompted him to leave, instead of the whip or Gwaine’s agonized gasps, Arthur couldn’t say, but he abruptly found himself standing, one hand on the doorknob.

            He briefly met Merlin’s suddenly concerned blue eyes, a flash of the Merlin he was familiar with, and he almost apologized before he’d remembered that Merlin had asked him – ordered him – not to speak. He left the room, letting the door shut loudly behind him. He felt a little dizzy, had to steady himself against the wall before he gained the strength to walk through the abnormally long hallway and back into the bar. He needed a drink. A _big_ one.


	4. B is for Bar

***

**Chapter 4**

**B is for Bar**

***

            Arthur found an empty seat at the end of the bar, ordered three shots of vodka and a beer. He handed over his credit card to the bartender rather than starting a tab, and then stared down at his hands morosely as he waited.

            Up until now it had been relatively easy to pretend that everything was… _normal_. They went on normal dates, had normal sex, talked about normal things. And yes, he’d known all along how Merlin made a living, but it had been easy to pretend that it was all just business, a way of paying the bills.

            Except Merlin actually _liked_ this sort of thing, and Arthur… well. Arthur couldn’t really imagine himself doing anything of the sort. And although Merlin had never complained, or pushed, surely he was disappointed that Arthur didn’t share his preferences. Sooner or later, probably sooner – if the rest of Merlin’s clients were as hot as _Gwaine_ was – Merlin would get bored of him and send him packing. He was just a _banker_ for fuck’s sake, and even his great hair and can-do attitude wouldn’t be enough to keep Merlin interested for very long.

            Tears stung his eyes, but he wasn’t a teenage _girl_ , so he blinked furiously to push them back. Maybe he should just break up with Merlin while he could still leave this whole relationship with a bit of dignity. Maybe they could stay friends, after. And maybe Arthur could die of extreme and persistent sexual frustration.

            Maybe he could just grin and bear it. Let Merlin do… whatever. It couldn’t be all that bad, surely? _Gwaine_ certainly seemed to be enjoying it. And if it meant they could be together, what was a little whipping, _really_?

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking Gwaine,” Arthur muttered. Because it was _a lot_ and he _couldn’t_ , he really couldn’t. “ _Fuck_.”

            “You doing alright, there?”

            Arthur jumped a little in his seat, turned to look at the woman that was now slipping into the seat beside him. She was dressed plainly in a light sundress, buttons going all the way down the front. The doe mask she was wearing somehow managed to convey a sense of concern, though maybe that was just Arthur’s imagination.

            “What?” he asked a little dumbly.

            “Are you alright? It’s just. You seem like you’re- well, like you’re not alright. Obviously it’s not for me to decide if you are or aren’t, but I just thought I might ask, you know, if everything was ok?” The woman tilted her head slightly to the side, and Arthur imagined that she might be smiling at him.

            “Ah. Yeah, fine, thanks,” he said.

            “ _Are_ you, though? I mean, you’re sitting here alone muttering to yourself…”

            Arthur barked out a sharp laugh, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “It’s just- This really isn’t my sort of place.”

            The bartender came over with his drinks, finally, and Arthur stared at the shots lined up before him. How the _fuck_ was he supposed to drink them with the stupid mask on. The plastic had warmed from being in contact with his skin, the inside of it slightly damp with sweat. He felt like it was suffocating him, limiting his vision, trapping him into someone else’s sick fantasy.

            “Fuck it,” he muttered and ripped it off, dropping it onto the bar. He took a few deep breaths before his heart sank abruptly. “Shit,” he said. “Am I allowed to take this off? I don’t even-“

            The woman placed a calming hand over his forearm and leaned in slightly. “Of course you are,” she said. She took off her own mask too, then. She was very pretty, with fine dark skin and an easy smile. Her brown eyes were warm and friendly, and Arthur felt himself relaxing slightly. “Although, you know the mask comes apart?”

            She took the lion mask and fiddled with it for a second. The bottom half of it came off, probably so the wearer would be able drink or… use their mouth for whatever else they may need to use it for. Arthur took a deep breath and threw back the first vodka shot, barely even tasting it.

            The woman leaned against the bar easily, brushed a hand through her curly dark hair. “First time then?” she asked. “Everyone gets a little nervous. I’m here with my husband, Lance,” she said, pointing over at a man across the room. He was wearing a fierce-looking wolf mask and having a very animated conversation with the most muscular man Arthur had ever seen.

            “We come here sometimes. We’re not really as dedicated as some folks, we just like to do this sort of thing for fun,” the woman babbled. “We come here to use their more fancy equipment, since we can’t exactly fit a rack in the flat, you know?” She laughed a little. “What about you? Are you here alone? Or did you come with your master?”

            Arthur flinched at the word _master_ , and the woman was quick to notice.

            “Or… girlfriend?” she asked.

            “Boyfriend,” Arthur answered, and took the second shot. “He works here. He invited me to come watch an appointment, and I just. I couldn’t.”

            He took a deep breath and took the last shot while the woman watched him with concern. The alcohol was already starting to hit him, and he dropped his forehead against the bar in defeat.

            “Oh, dear,” the woman said, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “It’ll be alright, you know,” she said.

            “It _won’t_ ,” Arthur muttered. “It won’t be alright. He’s going to get bored and dump me and it’s going to be _awful_.” He sighed and sat up, pulled the beer closer. He took a few measured sips, washing the sharp taste of vodka out of his mouth.

            “Well, obviously I don’t know him, but I’m sure you’re just making a big deal over nothing,” she said kindly. “I mean, I don’t know you either, but you seem like a nice enough guy? I mean, I’m sure… it’s not like your relationship is based only on sex, is it? Oh god, not that there’s anything wrong with that if it _is_ , I’m just saying- well if it is, I mean yeah, you might be right, but I think, well-” she was getting more and more flustered with each word, as if worried she may be single-handedly ruining Arthur’s life and trying desperately to stop.

            “You and your husband,” Arthur interrupted, taking pity on her. “How does that work, exactly? I mean… if you don’t mind me asking, but who… does- uh, what?”

            She blinked in surprise, and then thought for a moment. “Well, we’re… um. I mean, we take turns? Like, today I came as his sub, but last month he came as mine. We both like both sides of it, you know? They both have their merits, I think.”

            “You can _do_ that? Switch?”

            She laughed. “Oh dear, well, we’re not living in the eighties anymore, are we? Most people like to switch to some extent, you know.”

            “So, the… the _submissive_ side of things,” Arthur said slowly, the word ‘submissive’ sounding awkward on his tongue. “What, exactly, is the appeal? I just- why would you let someone hurt you like that? I mean, what’s so sexy about pain?”

            “Well, there’s your first problem,” she said with a kindly smile. “It’s not really about pain. Or, well, it’s not all about pain. Well, it is for _some_ people, really, but-“ she cut herself off abruptly and laughed. “Ok, look – it’s all very individual, you know? Everyone is different, so I can only tell you about me and Lance. And for us, you know it’s about… _power_ and well, yeah, pain a little bit – but not as _pain_ but as a sensation, you know? It’s all just different sensations, it’s not ‘pain’ like getting punched in the face during a fight…

            “Anyway, most of all it’s about trust. I mean… giving yourself over completely into another person’s hands? Giving complete and absolute trust, and receiving it? It’s- I don’t know. It’s….”

            “Intoxicating?” Arthur guessed, remembering what Merlin had said on their first date.

            “Yeah,” the woman said with a wide smile.

            “Oh hell,” Arthur said suddenly. “Look at me asking you all these personal questions, and I haven’t even offered to buy you a drink- do you… would you like-“

            “No thanks,” she said. “Alcohol dulls the senses, sort of defeats the whole purpose.”

            “Ah,” Arthur said a bit awkwardly. His senses were feeling pretty dulled by then, so he could see what she was getting at. Since he was already half in the bag, he went ahead and drained the rest of his beer.

            “Look, don’t do anything stupid,” the woman said, “like… I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know you, obviously, but you seem like the sort of guy that might… overreact and do something stupid. Not that I’m saying that _you’re_ stupid! I’m just saying- look, just. Just talk to your boyfriend, alright? I know you men can be silly about talking about your feelings, but. Don’t ruin a good thing just because… I don’t know, because you’re too embarrassed, or scared, to talk about how you really feel.”

            “Urrrrgh,” Arthur groaned. Yes, that was pretty good advice. But he didn’t have to be happy about it.

            Arthur jerked as someone put a hand on his shoulder, whirled around to see Merlin – looking a little sweaty and disheveled.

            “Hey,” Merlin said quietly. He stared at Arthur, his expression unreadable. And then his piercing blue eyes slid downwards to settle on the empty glasses set out on the bar, and he pursed his lips in disapproval.

            “Hey,” Arthur said, mentally reminding himself that he was an _adult_ and he could have a drink – or four – if he felt like it.

            “Merlin!” the woman said happily, and jumped up to give him a friendly hug.

            “Gwen,” Merlin replied in a more subdued tone of voice, returning the hug. He angled his hips awkwardly away from her, though, and Arthur noticed that Merlin was still hard. The knots of tension in his shoulders abruptly loosened, because that meant that Merlin _hadn’t_ \- with Gwaine, Merlin hadn’t-

            “I see you’ve already met Arthur,” Merlin said, pulling away.

            “Arthur?” Gwen practically squealed. She turned back to Arthur, swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “You’re _Arthur_? Merlin’s Arthur? Oh gosh, this one,” she said, nodding at Merlin, “hasn’t shut up about _you_ for months!”

            Merlin’s expression twisted into something odd at that, and Arthur’s heart sank. It was as though Merlin was embarrassed of him. Arthur’s skin prickled uneasily, and, too drunk to present a composed front, he felt his shoulders drooping in response.

            “Gwen, I’ve talked to Percival,” Merlin said, quickly changing the subject, “he says your room is ready.”

            “Thanks, Merlin,” Gwen said. She looked uneasily between the two of them, opened her mouth as though she was about to speak but then closed it again. “I’d better go,” she said after a moment. “It was nice meeting you!” she said to Arthur. “Remember what I said, though.” And then she was putting her mask back on with efficient movements, and within half a minute she was lost to the crowd, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone with each other.

            They were engulfed in awkward silence for a moment, and then Merlin ran his hand through his hair, his multitude of rings glinting in the dim lighting. “How much have you had to drink?” he asked finally.

            “Not enough,” Arthur said.

            Merlin sighed, and looked away. “You left.”

            “Yeah,” Arthur said. “I… yeah. Sorry.”

            “Look, I think we need to talk.”

            Arthur’s blood ran cold. There it was, then. Merlin was dumping him. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and wished for another drink. “Yeah,” he forced himself to say. “I think so, too.”

            “Maybe you should go home,” Merlin said uncomfortably, “sober up.”

            “I’m sober enough,” Arthur said. He probably wasn’t, but he couldn’t bear the thought of having to wait for this conversation, dreading it the whole time. Besides, he would need some liquid courage for what was coming.

            Merlin shifted restlessly from foot to foot, not looking at him at all, and then said, “alright, come on then.” He led Arthur back to the corridor, but this time he didn’t take Arthur’s hand.

            They ended up in an unoccupied room, done up like a medieval chamber. Heavy candelabra stood around the corners, but the candles were unlit. The room was devoid of any torture implements, furnished only with a huge lavish bed, covered in red silks and satins. It was all relatively normal except for the fact that one wall was clearly a two-way mirror. The lights were turned on in the empty room beyond the mirror, turning it into simple glass, serving as the only illumination.

            “Merlin-“ Arthur began.

            “I know what you’re going to say,” Merlin interrupted. He curled his hands into fists and drew himself up to his full height. He looked angry, but his eyes were shining, unshed tears reflecting the light. “I’m not going to quit my job just because it makes you uncomfortable, Arthur. And if you’re going to be… _jealous_ or… If you’re going to be _judging_ me for what I do, then you’d better break it off now, because I’m not going to change – not now, and not ever.”

            “What?” Arthur asked.

            “What do you mean, _what_?” Merlin asked, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “It’s simple – I’m not going to change my life for you! And the fact that you’d even _expect_ me to is so… so… _arrogant_. Just because you have a ‘respectable’ job doesn’t mean that what I do doesn’t matter! I help people too, you know! Maybe not in a way that you can appreciate- but what I do is important! God _dammit_ , Arthur! Why are you smiling? Is it so funny that I care about what I do?!”

            Arthur was smiling because he’d finally figured out that Merlin was _not_ breaking up with him. “Merlin,” he said, “that is absolutely _not_ what I was going to say. At all.”

            Merlin seemed to deflate slightly, and righteous anger was replaced by embarrassment and confusion. “Oh. Then… then why were you sitting around with a face like someone had run over your cat?”

            Arthur laughed. “Because! Because I thought you were going to break up with me, for being too boring. For not being into all this… _stuff_. Because you came over and you could barely look me in the face!”

            Merlin blinked uncertainly. “I… I thought you were going to break up with _me_. I was getting mentally prepared. So… you’re _not_ breaking up with me?”

            “No! And you’re- you’re not breaking up with _me_?”

            “Of course not!”

            They stared at each other for a long moment, and then simultaneously broke out into uncontrollable laughter.

            “Oh god, we’re stupid,” Merlin choked out between chuckles.

            “Yeah,” Arthur agreed, and tugged Merlin into a kiss. He slid his hands down Merlin’s back and down to his ass, gripped tight and pulled Merlin fully against him, pushing his thigh between Merlin’s legs. Merlin was gasping into their kisses as if he couldn’t get enough air, moaning as he pressed his hips against Arthur’s leg in sharp jerky thrusts.

            “ _Fuck_ ,” Arthur said, pulling away. “How long is this room going to be empty for?”

            “I dunno, ten minutes?” Merlin gasped.

            “Not a whole lot of time,” Arthur muttered.

            “Fuck you, I’ve been hard for like an _hour_ , would you just _touch me_?”

            Arthur laughed and pushed him against one of the elaborate bed-posts before unceremoniously shoving his hand down Merlin’s jeans. Merlin gripped his shoulders tightly, his face pressed against Arthur’s neck. He let out whimpering moans as Arthur jacked him off and then came, barely two minutes later. He didn’t even pause to recover before pushing Arthur away, urging him to sit on the bed and sinking down between Arthur’s spread knees, already fumbling with the zip of Arthur’s trousers.

            He didn’t hesitate to take Arthur’s cock into his mouth, moving quickly and mercilessly while Arthur could only grip Merlin’s hair and stare down at him in wonder. Arthur came with a surprised groan, and Merlin pulled away to rest his head on Arthur’s thigh, breathing heavily. All in all it was probably the fastest sex they’d ever had.

            There was a sharp tap on the glass and Arthur nearly fell off the bed when he whirled around to look and – it was the large muscled man who he’d seen talking to Lance earlier. He beamed at them gleefully. “Finish up, love-birds,” he said with a smirk, “I need that room in five minutes!”

            “Did you-?“ Arthur began, appalled, but the man had already left the other room. Arthur turned to Merlin. “Did he just see us-“

            “Probably,” Merlin muttered, completely unconcerned. He slowly tucked Arthur’s spent cock back into his trousers, did up the buttons, pressed a soft kiss right below Arthur’s belly button and then stood up to straighten his own clothes. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let’s go home.”

            Arthur took Merlin’s hand and they slunk out of the club, sticky and embarrassed – or at least Arthur was embarrassed – and made their way back to Merlin’s flat. Before long Arthur was calling Morgana to tell her he was taking the day off on Friday.

            “Well now this is just becoming a habit, you _bastard_ -” she sputtered angrily right before he hung up with a smile and curled up around Merlin’s back, pulling him close with a hand around his waist.

 

***

**Epilogue?**

**B is for Brilliant future**

***

            “You know…” Merlin said on one lazy Sunday afternoon, a few months later. Arthur’s head was pillowed on Merlin’s chest while Merlin slowly carded his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “Obviously I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do… but you know, you may enjoy it.”

            “BDSM?” Arthur asked, too cozy and content and, honestly, too used to the whole thing by now to get particularly prickly about the subject.

            “Yeah. You know, some parts of it. A little light bondage maybe,” Merlin said dreamily, then slapped Arthur playfully on the ass. “A little spanking here and there,” he said with a laugh.

            “Oh you’d just _love_ that wouldn’t you,” Arthur murmured against Merlin’s skin. “Arthur! You forgot to take out the garbage – spanking. Arthur! You didn’t call to say you’d be working late – spanking. Arthur! You lost one of my socks in the wash – spanking.”

            Merlin laughed. “Hey! I only use my powers for good.”

            “Mm, I think I know you too well to fall for _that_ one,” Arthur said. But, really, what was a little bondage between lovers? “Maybe,” he said with a smile.

 

***

END  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Some final notes - I have no personal experience with BDSM, all I have is research! Check out the next chapter for links to some of the resources I used in the writing of this fic


	5. B is for Bibliography

**  
**Lots of great resources out there, and these are just some of them!

 

Much of this was inspired by a documentary I watched a while back, called [Fetishes](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116298/) (link to IMDb)

**NOW, ON TO THE ARTICLES:**

**Dominatrix: Gender, Eroticism, and Control in the Dungeon**  By Danielle J. Lindemann

([x](http://www.transcendingboundaries.org/resources/bdsm-101.html)) <http://www.transcendingboundaries.org/resources/bdsm-101.html>

Janet W. Hardy (aka Catherine A. Liszt)

This is your basic BDSM 101, including an explanation of the color system of safe words, which is what is used in this fic between Merlin and Gwaine

([x](http://oro.open.ac.uk/17267/2/5470e82f.pdf)) On tops, bottoms and ethical sluts: The place of BDSM and polyamory in lesbian and gay psychology

([x](http://oro.open.ac.uk/17272/2/4AD665D2.pdf)) Kinky clients, kinky counselling? The challenges and potentials of BDSM - written mainly for psychologists/councelors who have clients that are part of the BDSM lifestyle. Rather dry reading, but does include a nifty little chart that discusses and debunks the major misconseptions about BDSM practitioners.

([x](http://zacharyshemtob.com/uploads/TheJoysofPain.pdf)) The Joys of Pain - A very casual-seeming overview of some BDSM related issues, and the writer seems to have a rather cavalier approach to research. The paper is, however, written on the basis of interviews of 5 people well established in the community, and definitely has some valuable insights to offer. Warning - occasinally features surprisingly graphic (…for an academic paper, that is) accounts and does mention blood-play


End file.
